Honor
by Katie230
Summary: "Speak three names and a man shall do the rest."
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: ASOIAF belongs to GRRM.**

Ned used to think that silence was never present in the Red Keep, and the night before had proven it. He sighed as an image of the drunken king with a whore on his lap crossed his mind, and his leg started to hurt again. _Where is the maester? _he wondered as memories from the night before started to dance before his eyes.

All he remembered was being at the feast, going outside to get some air, and hearing screams, followed by the smell of fire.

The King's Hand had heard noises coming from the Traitor's Walk, so he headed for the source, expecting to find a fight. _With so many drunk people here it's normal, _he thought, but what he saw was beyond any image he might have had in mind.

The men that had decided to join the Night's Watch instead of being punished according to what they had done had attacked the guards. It was hard to tell the difference between the two sides through the smoke, but what caught Ned's attention the instant he arrived was the cage in which three men were trapped, fire advancing quickly towards them. Before he had time to think about it, he had picked up an axe from the ground and was heading for them as fast as his legs could carry him. His eyes were full of tears and his movements were slow, but he was able to reach them in time.

"Gave a man the axe!" one of them screamed. Ned could not see his features through his blurred vision, but his accent betrayed the fact that he was not Westerosi. Without any hesitation, he put the axe through the bars. His sword was heavy in the other hand as he backed awayfrom the flames. He needed to get out, to call more guards … he needed to … he needed to …

He did not even realize when he got hit in the back by a longsword, or when he lost consciousness and fell to the ground.

Sitting in his bed, Ned wondered why he had saved those people. But it was a pathetic question, because he knew the answer even before he started to wonder.

They were in chains and caged, surrounded by fire. Helpless, unable to defend themselves. It was his duty as Hand of the King to protect them, to try to save them. Ned didn't knew what they had done to get there, but he knew that no one deserved to die consumed by the flames. He sighed and felt his heart grow heavy as he thought of his own father, the image of him as he was the last time they saw each other crossing his mind.

It seemed that the fight had left some marks on the Red Keep – the Traitor's Walk was mostly destroyed, and so were some of the closest gardens. Countless prisoners had escaped before the guards had arrived and were now free in King's Landing. Ned thought about his daughters, promising himself that he would not let any harm come to them.

He closed his eyes, wishing the maester would come soon. Pain crossed his leg, as well as his back. The blow had not been a fatal one, but it was enough to leave him unconscious for some hours, until he was found next to the Hand's Tower. When he recalled receiving that information, Ned frowned. He did not remember going there.

The door opened with a creak, letting some light inside his chamber (the maester had decided it was better for him to stay in a dark room, as he needed to sleep in order to regain his ray was followed by a man Ned did not remember – his hair was half red and half white and a smile played across his lips, but it did not reach his eyes. Instinctively, Ned reached for a weapon but found none.

"A man does not wish you any harm," the strange man said.

The voice. Ned immediately recognized the accent and could now even identify it, even if he had not heard it in a long time. The Free Cities. Perhaps even Braavos, judging by the way his speech reminded Ned of Syrio, who now trained his younger daughter in swordplay.

"Who are you?"

It was hard to concentrate or to even talk with the pain that caught him, but he did not wish to appear weak. Reaching for a chair, Ned moved to it.

"This man has the honor of being Jaqen H'ghar, once from the free city of Lorath."

Countless questions went through Ned's mind – why did he came to Westeros? How did he end up in the cage? How did he get inside the Tower of the Hand, passing through the guards? Was he the one that had dragged him out of the fight, after escaping the fire? – but knowing he could not ask more than one at time, he tried to decide. But before he finished, the man Ned now knew was named Jaqen spoke again.

"A man should thank a lord for helping. A lord should know, a man pays his debts. A man owes three."

"Three?"

"Only death may pay for life. Speak the names, and a man will do the rest."

Ned's head started to feel like it was spinning. For a moment he thought he had not heard correctly – did that truly mean what it sounded like?

_I was sure there must be a reason for him being imprisoned_. A murderer, perhaps a hired assassin, offering his services to him! It was almost a slight on his honor as a Stark – he could easily see Tywin Lannister accepting such an offer, or even the Queen, but not him.

"I shall arrest you right now, Ser. I should put you in the cells and leave you there."

"A man is sure a lord must feel offended, through a man is having the best intentions."

"The best intentions? Guards!"

Ned screamed as loudly as he could, and heard footsteps outside, coming closer. What were they doing so far away from his door? He would surely need to talk with their commander.

"Speak three names and a man shall do the rest."

With that, Jaqen H'ghar exited through the same door he had entered in. Ned waited and waited, but he did not hear the sound of a fight. After few seconds, the two guards came inside, asking what the problem was.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: ASOIAF belongs to GRRM.**

**Thanks a lot to my wonderful beta, androidilenya, and to every person who reads this story. :)**

It had been a fortnight since the incident with the cage, but Ned still felt uneasy about the man he had met. One of the questions that passed through the Hand's mind regarded his own safety, as well as his daughters. How could he know the assassin would not come back? Who had hired him anyway?

The thought hadn't left Ned's mind when he stood in the Small Council chamber, carefully listening to the news. It seemed like Daenerys Targaryen had married a Dothraki and now rode with his khalasar.

"The whore is pregnant!"

The king's shout attracted Ned's attention almost immediately, but it was the next thing he said that made the Hand get up from his chair.

"I want her dead! Her and her dragon spawn!"

Suddenly, an image crossed his mind – though he had never seen Daenerys, he imagined her as a silver-haired girl with purple eyes, riding through the grass that built the Dothraki sea. She was only a child, just two years older than Sansa, and four older than Arya!

Then a distant memory caught him, one he knew would never leave him – his sister Lyanna begging him for forgiveness, her grey Stark eyes filled with tears as she gazed at her newborn babe for what was going to be the last time. She had been the same age as Daenerys was now, Ned realized. In his mind a new image formed, with Lyanna's son in the center. Robert said death would come after every child born from the Targaryen line – dragon spawn - more times than Ned could count in the last week, and was very serious when talking about Daenerys. A cold shiver went through Ned's body as he thought about Jon Snow. What would Robert do then?

Ned waved away Jon's image – him hurt and dead by Robert's hand - but not before he promised to himself he would not let any harm come to the boy. After that, he spoke for the first time that meeting.

"She's just a child! Robert, you can't be serious!"

But Ned knew how false his assumption was even before he said it. At first. no one paid him any attention, but he slammed his fist into the table to draw their gazes to him.

"It's not a child! It's a dragon spawn!"

Ned realized that Robert was nervous and annoyed. His face was flushed, and his eyes had something in them that reminded the northerner of the Mad King.

"My lords," said Petyr Baelish, trying to calm everyone down, "I suggest we hire an assassin for this job. It would make the death clean, and no one would know we were behind it."

"I will not be part of this!"

"You will! You monster, how can you feel pity for a fucking Targaryen! Have you forgotten your sister? Have you forgotten your father and brother? Remember what those fucking Targaryens did to them? Remember?"

"I remember, but Daenerys was not even born at that time. You can't make her responsible for the actions her family has done … Your Grace."

It took all the dexterity Ned had to move some steps further, to avoid being hit by a goblet full of wine. The liquid inside spilled all over the table and on the dress the queen wore.

"Robert!" the only woman in the room screamed at him – "That's enough!"

"My lords! My lords, I suggest we all calm down." This time, Varys was the one who spoke, but he did not have any more success than Petyr Baelish, who was now trying to move some papers away from the king.

"No! Littlefinger, find an assassin! It can be anyone, I don't care. I want her dead! Do you hear me?"

But it was Ned who answered.

"Then I suggest you find a new Hand!"

With that, he tossed away his sigil and did not wait for an answer – he stepped out into the hallway as Lord of Winterfell, his steps sure and determined. But it was not fast enough, because he still heard the King giving the command. And he heard Littlefinger's answer – an envoy for the Faceless Men was going to leave King's Landing at the first hour in the morning.

It could not be long till Robert would send the guards after him, so Ned moved as fast as he could. He needed to do something, anything – he could not let harm came to that girl! That child who had already been through so much, so much. From all Ned had heard, the two remaining Targaryens did not have a rich life – they begged at every high lord's door in Bravoos and, if the rumors were true, Queen Rhaella's crown had been sold in order to get some food. The marriage to the Khal could assure them both – Daenerys and Viserys – a life as they couldn't even dream of in the Free Cities. They could have a roof, a home, food ... Why should Daenerys and the child pay with their blood for that?

Ned remembered the sight of Elia Martell and her children wrapped in Lannister cloaks. Robert's laugh …

No, he could not let any harm come to the Targaryen girl.

"A lord has his doubts."

He had not even noticed when Jaqen H'ghar had seated himself on a bench. Instinctively, Ned reached for his sword.

"A man wishes no harm. A man only came to pay his debts. Speak a name, any name, and a man shall do the rest."

"There is no honor in hiring an assassin," Ned said, but he wasn't sure if the statement was addressed to himself or to the Lorathi.

"There is no honor in killing a child."

"How do you know that?"

How could he? No one could have been inside without being observed, the guards were too many – both for the queen and the king. A shiver ran down Ned's back, and for a second, his leg started to hurt again.

"A man hears, a man knows."

Could it be?

A crazy thought crossed his mind. If the envoy could be caught, they would never hire a Faceless Man. But still, the envoy did not have any fault. Suddenly, Ned had an idea.

"How good are you, truly? How do I know you will not fail?"

"Of a man's talent I can assure you. A man had no mission he failed – and a man can assure you that he has had many."

"Then how did you end up in the cells?"

He laughed, but it did not reach his eyes. "A man was on a mission … a lord could agree that it's more comfortable to travel north in a wagon than walking or riding."

"A mission … who were you supposed to kill?"

"This a man cannot say."

It was silent for a few seconds, then Jaqen spoke again. A man heard a king wishing for a certain death, and a man saw a lord standing firm against it."

"What if I asked you to save someone? Would you do that? Would you save the girl?"

Jaqen stood up and moved himself closer to Ned. It made the latter feel uneasy, to have so little space between him and the assassin. But he could not be scared, not when he knew that he could do something to save an innocent.

"Say a name, any name, if you think it will save the girl."

"I don't want you to kill anyone. I want you to save Daenerys Targaryen."

"This isn't part of the deal, a man should remind a lord. A man promised a lord three deaths, no more, no less. A name is all a man needs. It's for a lord to decide whose name it will be."

_There is no honor in tricks_, Ned thought to himself. But still … there was no honor in lying to your king. But there was honor in saving innocents.

_And I don't want that man to be my king_, Ned concluded. It was a traitorous thought, but he could not help himself. After seeing what Robert had become – a man who could murder children, who didn't care about the realm, and who spend his days whoring and drinking, a man who was king only in name – he was sure of that.

"Jaqen H'ghar."

"A lord gives a man his own name. This must be a jest, though a lord should know this is no joking thing."

"I am not joking."

"Take it away."

"No."

"Please."

"I will do it … If you will help me."

Jaqen sighed. Still, Ned could not back down. It was the only way he could save Daenerys. The only way he could save Jon's aunt. And her child – Jon's cousin. Even if he had hidden Jon for all those years, he had secretly hoped it would be possible to introduce him to the other Targaryens. It was only a dream, because he knew Jon would never be safe again if the knowledge about his parents became public.

"A lord lacks honor."

Those words hit Ned harder than they should have. "Don't hurt anyone … please. And don't let the envoy get away from King's Landing. Just catch him, and make sure he doesn't leave the city. Deliver him to me, and I shall take care of him."

"This wasn't part of our deal."

"You offered me three deaths … help me save three lives. Do what it's honorable, Jaqen H'ghar, and help me save that girl."

"A man could kill the king. How long does a lord think it will take before they will become suspicious?"

That took Ned aback.

"Whatever has happened to Robert, he is my friend. We grew up as brothers, and I would never wish him any harm. Do you accept my offer? Catch the envoy and deliver him to me? Change those three deaths for three lives saved?"

At that, Ned received a nod in approval.

There had been no word from Jaqen on the first day, nor on the second, and Ned started to think that something had happened to him. It gave him headaches to think about failing, to think that he could not save the poor girl.

When five days had passed, a time in which Ned was once again named Hand of the King, he did not expect to get any news. But that day, when the stars were already shining in the night sky, Loras Tyrell was bought in front of him.

"This is the envoy," Jaqen told him.

"Thank you." Ned hesitated before adding a question that had been on his mind for a while. "How do I find you?"

"A lord should not worry about this. A man still has debts."

With that, Jaqen disappeared into the night, and Ned was left in his room with a scared Loras Tyrell, who probably didn't have any idea of what had he done to be brought here. Ned could save two more lives if he knew how to ask for them – Daenerys Targaryen was the first. Who would be the second?

Then he wondered – what would have happened if it was someone else who had saved Jaqen – someone like Robert or Tywin Lannister? And, more importantly, who was that man? Where did he come from?

Ned felt dizzy and wished to go back home. Back to Winterfell, where everything was so easy, without all those games. He wished to be in a place where kings didn't try to kill innocents and Hands didn't need to use hired assassins to stop them. Where he didn't have to deal with a scared envoy or with all those secrets. Where he didn't need to trick anyone in order to save a life.

But had he truly fooled Jaqen? He wasn't so sure, and he could only hope that it was an honorable man that had helped him.

Ned had managed to change the deal – to save three lives in order to take them. The first one was used. Who would be the second?

Ned sighed as he started to consider what he would do with the envoy. He could only hope it would not be too hard to convince him to keep the secret.


	3. Chapter 3

_How did I end up like this?_

Ned closed his eyes, trying to ignore the pain from the new wound - courtesy of Loras Tyrell. But the physical hurt was nothing compared to the disappointment that filled the room. Truly, he did not know which he felt more ashamed of. The feeling of guilt crept in, threatening to clutch him, and Ned fought with all the power he had left to stop tears from spilling from his eyes.

The events from that night were clear before his eyes, but a little part of him did not want to believe them. It couldn't have been so bad. But it was ... perhaps it was even worse than he thought. Every attempt at a discussion with the Tyrell boy had been a failure, and no one could say that he had not tried. He had been nice, kind, perhaps threatening sometimes, but nothing had worked.

_I should have let Jaqen discuss it with him._

But even if Ned wished to believe otherwise, the Lorathi had not had any intention of having a conversation. _Monster_, was all that the Lord of Winterfell, and ex-Hand of the King, could think about the assassin. The man would have slit the boy's throat without even thinking twice. Or poisoned him, or who knew what else.

_How could I believe such a man would help me?_

But it was not the assassin's fault that Loras had managed to kick out at Ned – or that Ned had untied the ropes that had restrained the boy's hands – just as it was not his fault that Ned could not defend himself and had gotten a new wound, this time on his hand, just before he fainted. A small wound, but a really deep one, he supposed. It was a challenge to move it even after a fortnight.

By the time Ned could get up, he was alone in the Tower of the Hand. But not for long - the Kingsguard had found out about "the attempt on Loras Tyrell's life", as well as the "traitor Hand, who tried to stop the king's plans" and "the northern lord who supported the usurper named Viserys Targaryen".

And so he found himself in the black cells, accused of treason and deprived of any information about his daughters. The man he was before he left Winterfell would have thought they would not have been threatened as well, but the man he was at that moment, after he had attempted to play the game, could not be so sure. They were children. But it was hard to believe that this would be enough for the people inside the Red Keep.

_Robert was my friend for years. _

But lately, Robert had proven that the age or innocence of a person did not matter to him. Would the man who ordered the murder of a girl and her unborn child spare the lives of a traitor's daughters?

The image of Elia and her two children wrapped in Lannister cloaks appeared in his mind, accompanied by the sound of Robert's laugh.

"Lord Stark, it's a honor to see you."

Caught in his thoughts, Ned had not even heard the Master of Whispers approaching.

"Spare me this empty courtesy, Lord Varys."

The eunuch only smiled and closed the door behind him. There was a strange look in his eyes, one Ned had never seen in that man. But then he realized that a simple indifference was the only expression Varys ever wore. Now he seemed both wary and annoyed, as well as careful.

"It pains me to see you like this Lord Stark, truly. I was starting to grow fond of you."

"What happened with my daughters?" Ned asked, deciding to ignore the kind - empty, false, like everything else in the Red Keep - words that were addressed to him.

At that the eunuch's eyes grew wide and sad, filled with regret. Almost instantly, Ned forget about the pain and got up.

"What happened to them?"

Varys sighed before answering. "The older one ... poor girl. Just after the king and Lord Tywin left the capital, she was stripped and beaten in front of the whole court by one of the Kings guards. Joffrey's orders. I believe you remember the one called Ser Meryn, he was also the one that threw you into this dungeon."

Ned felt like he could not breathe just thinking about poor Sansa. Sansa, the beautiful, delicate lady, with her head so full of dreams. Sansa, who cried when she first heard of the Night Watch's deserters, who would do whatever she could to run away from everything that wasn't beautiful. His poor girl, stripped and beaten in front of the whole court, and all because of him!

Even though he wished to know the truth, Ned was almost scared to ask the next question. But it would have been even more painful to not know.

"And Arya?"

"The guards went after her, and Syrio tried to defend her. But he was only one, and the guards so many ... it was painful to hear the story, especially told by Trant. They caught her. The poor child."

When seeing the eunuch did not intend to speak more, Ned asked for the truth, his voice barely above a whisper.

"What happened to her?"

"I would not go into details, but you will get a clear idea of what happened, Lord Stark, if I told you that Rhaenys was treated with mercy compared to what they did to Arya."

"Tell me."

_Tell me what they did to my child._

"She was flayed till no one could recognize her and exposed in front of the Red Keep. Then that abomination who rules in his father's place forced Lady Sansa to look at and kiss the corpse, while she was still naked. Poor girl. There were so many people to see, so many knights, and no one did anything to help. They all watched and humiliated her. Did you know how they called her? The wolf whore, the traitor daughter ... and those were the kind words."

Ned stood in shock, unable to even move.

"But that's not all. Your heir, Robb, mobilized the Northern army. They are coming to King's Landing. I believe he said "Tell Lord Tywin winter is coming for him, with ten thousand northerners to see if he really does shit gold" to our envoy. He already won a battle against Kevan Lannister. This is where our king is going, to fight against your son. And your wife is currently in the Vale, trying to gain their support. The Tullys have already joined your son's side, but the Reach supports the crown, along with the Stormlands. Stannis found out about the horrible truth about the queen's children - that they are all bastards, fathered by Jaime Lannister - and rebelled on his own. This situation did not leave the Greyjoys indifferent, either. Balon declared himself King of the Iron Islands again."

"All of this ... all of this because of me."

At that the eunuch's expression became kind, somehow full of pity.

"No, it is not. All you have done was to be much too honorable for this city. Stannis started the rebellion before Robert even thought about killing Daenerys, and the Greyjoys attacked Lannisport the night you were imprisoned, long before they had word of it. Your wife, well ... she pretty much convinced the North that the Lannister twins were at fault in your son's fall before you were in that cell, too. It was only a matter of time before an open rebellion."

"What? How ... how are the queen and the kingslayer responsible for my son's fall?"

"He saw them comsummating their love for each other, and Jaime Lannister pushed him through the window."

"How long have I been here?"

"A month, my dear lord."

"And why hadn't somebody informed me of this earlier?"

"No one had the time."

Ned wished to punch Varys for that answer, but was able to regain his control before he did anything unwise."I want you to do something for me," he said, in little more than a whisper. He leaned closer to the other man, afraid that someone else might hear as well. "Find Jaqen H'ghar."

"Who this man might be?"

"He's a Lorathi, with his hair half red and half white. Just find him."

"And what should I tell him if I do?"

At that Ned stopped, unsure of what he should say next. A month before this, even the idea of a hired assassin would have made him feel without honor, but at this moment, there were so many people whose name he wanted to speak. So many ...

First he thought of Trant, the monster who caught - and probably also killed - Arya, and felt his heart breaking as he recalled the happy child she was the last time Ned saw her. _She told me how much she loved her sword lessons. She thanked me, and then she went to catch some cats_.

But killing Trant would not stop the war, so he would have to wait.

The he thought of Joffrey, the abomination who had humiliated Sansa. Would she be able to smile again? Ever? Had those monsters raped her as well, after the beating? Ned did not wish to think about the part in which she was forced to kiss her sister's corpse.

Joffrey would be a good target, he pondered. A prince, who Robert believed to be his heir. But would that be enough to destroy the crown's power? Would that stop the rebellion?

Of course not. Ned hated to admit it, but that one had to wait for other time, too.

The most obvious choice would be Robert, but Ned could not bring himself to say his name. It was not his fault for what his son had done. He was not at fault for the rebellion. He shivered as an image with Cersei's son on the Iron Throne found its way into his mind.

"Varys, if you could kill any person, whom would you pick? What would stop this war?"

"Nothing. Nothing will stop this war, but ... who would I pick? That would be the new Hand, of course. A strategic mind, a proven commander. Surely his death would cause troubles for a while, perhaps enough for your son's army to get past the Lannister's territory. Listen to me, Lord Stark. It is Tywin Lannister that rules the realm. But this is only a hypothetical question, isn't it?"

Ned ignored the question. Sure that he would lose Jaqen's help, but knowing he had no other choice, he spoke, hands trembling.

"Tell Jaqen I said Lord Tywin. And tell him I beg of him to save my daughter, to get her out of King's Landing. Take her to Riverun, where Catelyn's father and brother are."

"And what would this man do to Lord Tywin?"

"This is not your concern."

"I beg your pardon, my Lord. If it involves me, it is my concern."

He sighed, and finally admitted his guilt in what had happened. Perhaps Varys' words made him feel a little less guilty about the war that had started, but the idea that it was all his fault continued to linger in his mind. But he still told - about how he saved the Lorathi and the other two, about Daenerys, about Loras ... by the time the story was finished, Ned felt exhausted.

"I will find him," was all that the eunuch would say after hearing Ned's story, before he left the ex-Hand with his thoughts.

On the other side of King's Landing, a girl stood facing the great castle. She was eleven, with short brown hair, and eyes that told stories no child should know. Even if they didn't find out, she had heard everything, had seen everything. Syrio's scream, Sansa's humiliation, the fake corpse that was displayed in front of the Red Keep - how could they be so blind? It was not even human. Jaqen had told her the name of the material the puppet was made of, but she had already forgotten it.

_Sansa, you have to know. You have to know it was not me._

Jaqen had found her a week after she escaped the Red Keep, and even if she did not wish to admit it, he was the only reason she was still alive. When Arya saw what they did to her sister, she wished to run at them, to stab all of them with Needle. But the Lorathi held her so the girl could not move. For a moment, she had been afraid for her own life.

_But he did not hurt me. He wished to help me._

The girl turned around and found the man standing right behind her. "When are we going to free my father?"

"A girl should be more patient, a man has a plan."

"What if they kill him before you can execute your plan?"

"They will not."

Arya searched the man's expression for doubt, but she found none. She wanted to ask him a question that had bothered her even since they met - why was he helping her? But the girl did not receive any answer the first time she had asked ... or the second time, or the third. So she decided to voice another curiosity of hers.

"Who are you? Truly."

"A man is what a girl sees."

His voice was plain, without any emotion, but Arya did not give up.

"I see a man who saved me because he had a debt to my father, but who could not save my sister."

Jaqen smiled, but it did not reach his eyes. "A man will save a girl's sister, too. But the debt to a girl's father is not the reason a man saved the girl."

"But then ... why?"

"Isn't a girl's life worth saving?"

That took Arya aback. "I did not say that. I already thanked you for what you did, I just want to know ... who are you?"

He did not even bother to look at her as he spoke again. "A man will save a girl's father and sister, but a girl needs to obey."

"A girl will obey."

"Good, then."

The next day, they were found by a man from the castle - the Master of Whispers, Arya remembered. And he had news from her father. Arya could do nothing but hope he was well as the three of them proceeded to a more private place.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: ASOIAF belongs to GRRM.**

**A lot of thanks to everyone who reads this, who reviews and to my wonderful beta androidilenya. **

**This chapter is rated M for the Sansa part. **

_It was only a matter of time_, the man thought as he read the letter again. And what a time! The moment could not have been better.

Lord Varys sighed and started to run his fat fingers over the paper, as though to reassure himself that he hadn't forgotten anything. Most people said that the eunuch was not a man – but they could not know in which way this was true. When someone said this, it was often about his lack of manly parts, but for him the statement had a different meaning. Not a man, a scheming shadow, the one who pulled the strings in the play, the one who had lost any sympathy, any care – almost a monster. No, not a man at all.

The letter he was going to send didn't include many details, but it had not left anything on the outside. Only certain facts, not dreams. He did not say that the North would support their cause, nor that Lord Stark was his man, but only that the Warden of the North would be in great debt to him. The letter did not contain any information about Jaqen H'ghar and his newly found friendship – perhaps – with Arya Stark, but Illyrio surely must know that a Faceless Man was in their service. Varys's friend from Essos had already been informed about the war from the little birds, so he decided to skip the battles.

And, what was most important, it told that now was a great time to start the final part of their plan. Oh, and how simple did all seem on paper! Get Viserys and Daenerys to Westeros – along with the Dothraki horde – get Aegon, too, with the Golden Company, kill Khal Drogo, marry Daenerys to Viserys and Aegon to Margaery Tyrell to ensure the Reach would not take the Lannister's part. Keep Sansa Stark in King's Landing as a hostage, and marry her to Quentin Martell later, as well as Robb Stark to Arianne Martell, to make sure that the Dornishmen would forget about the … misunderstandings they had had with the Stark family prior to this.

But the eunuch was a realistic man, and he knew that it would not be so simple to get Viserys Targaryen on the throne. And it would be even harder to ensure that people will not rebel against him. _If only we had dragons_.

Yes, with dragons, everything would be easier – but those beasts had been dead for a hundred years.

And, in truth, Varys had his own doubts about the one who was supposed to become king. _My birds tell me he is the Mad King's son in all he does_.Perhaps he should just place Aegon on the throne and marry him to Daenerys. But that could be resolved later, when the Targaryen rule was installed and the Iron Throne secure.

His meeting with the Faceless Man and the Hand's daughter could have gone better than it had, but he had no doubt now that Lord Tywin was surely a dead man.

_The man who calls himself Jaqen H'ghar is from the best guild of assassins, I don't think he will fail._

The Master of Whispers gave the letter to a bird and headed towards the cells where Eddard Stark was imprisoned.

The man who had once been Hand of the King was feeling nervous – for what else could he do in the black cells than imagine possible scenarios for the outcome of the war? An image haunted his mind day and night, the one of Robb, Catelyn, Bran, Rickon, Sansa and Jon in pain, dead. And that image made him want to punch the wall until he could not feel his hand anymore. How he wished to be at Winterfell, with them, all of them, safe.

And Arya … his poor Arya, the fiercest of the children, a true daughter of the North! _I should have let her stay in Winterfell_. Would he even be able to look at the corpse? How could he bury her in the dark crypts, as he had buried Lyanna years ago? That lively child with a smile on her face, his daughter who wished to be a knight, to play with the swords, and who hated her lessons about "stupid things, like Sansa likes to do". A tear slipped down his cheek as he remembered Arya hiding in the stables whenever she wanted to get away from Septa Mordane.

_You can't understand, Ned, you have the freedom of choice. You always have._

That was what Lyanna had told him when he found the dying girl in the Tower of Joy. His sister wanted freedom, to be wild and free – she ran away with Rhaegar Targaryen because he offered her a choice. He wanted to take her out of her cage. But that action led to another, and then another, and soon the war had emerged. Ned could not help but wonder if this was what Arya felt as well. Did she feel imprisoned in her role? The lessons, the courtesy … was it all a torture for her, as it had been for Lyanna?

When Ned hired Syrio Forell he had not thought it was serious – he had hoped it wasn't – but the moment he had seen the little figure dancing with a sword in her hand, the happiness that filled her eyes, the smile Ned had never seen Arya wearing before, he knew. He knew that, no matter what, he would let the girl make her own choices. If she wanted to be a knight, then a knight she would be. In that moment, he promised to himself that he would never be for Arya as his father, Rickard, had been for Lyanna. He would never force his daughter into a marriage with a man she didn't even know, and he would never take away what she loved the most – freedom.

But at this moment, it did not matter. Arya was dead, and nothing could change that.

Ned did not even hear the door opening. It was only a second later that the eunuch – who seemed to be the last friend he had in King's Landing – entered and started to speak.

"Lord Stark, I bought you food."

He placed a bowl of soup next to Ned, along with a bottle of water. _Some wine would have been better. Perhaps I could just get drunk and fall asleep, so I wouldn't have to think about anything for a while_.

"What news do you have for me, Lord Varys?"

"Great news, Lord Stark. I have found your Faceless Man and have given him your instructions."

At least that was something good. Perhaps Lord Tywin's death would be enough to split the Lannister forces. Perhaps. Ned hoped that the delay would give Robb and his people enough time to pass the enemy lines. If only Jaqen could get Tywin in time.

"He is a Faceless? How do you know?"

"Well, let's just say – he told me some words."

"Stop with these secrets, just tell me. It's not like I can go and spread the word!"

But the eunuch didn't say anything else, and Ned decided to ask another question.

"What happened since the last time you saw me?"

_A fortnight ago, you scheming eunuch. You couldn't come sooner, could you?_

"And what are you going to do for this information?"

"What am I going to do?" asked Ned, feeling anger towards the eunuch, towards Robert and the stupid war – but mostly towards himself. "At the moment, I can't do much, as you can see."

"Not now, Lord Stark. I will trade for information and secrets."

Ned was tired of both. He wished to send the eunuch away and never see him again, but as much as he hated to admit it, the man had helped him. And he had found Jaqen.

"Fine. What do you want to know?"

"Not so fast, Lord Stark. New players will enter the game, supporting a king who was shaped to rule all his life – a dutiful and trustworthy man who can end this mess."

"And who is this?"

"Viserys of the House Targaryen, the third of his name. Behind him is a horde of Dothraki warriors and … well, I wouldn't want to spoil that part. You need to promise that the North will support his claim when he comes to retake what is rightfully his."

"The Targaryens destroyed the kingdom. If someone must sit on the Iron Throne, it should be Stannis, as Robert's true heir."

"Your friend Robert is no true king, and Stannis is less than even him. Or haven't you heard? He does what a witch from Asshai tells him to do. Do you want such a man on the Iron Throne?"

"I don't want a Targaryen, either."

"Then if you don't accept Viserys as your king, I shall send a special someone to the Wall. Yes, I will tell your friend, the Faceless Man, that the honorable Lord Stark has orders for Jon Snow. It will be a pity to kill him, won't it? And I had such big plans for him, too! Did you think Rhaegar Targaryen's son will play no part in this game? What do you think your sister would have said about you indirectly killing her son?"

"How do you know about this?"

"My sources are not important. Oh, well. If this is what you wish …"

"No! Wait!"

"Too late, Lord Stark. Too late."

And Varys left, leaving a speechless Ned with his bowl of untouched soup. In a sudden burst of anger, he threw the food right where the eunuch had just been standing.

_Am I condemned to be responsible for another death? Oh, please, don't kill Jon. Don't trust that eunuch. Don't trust him!_

Somewhere inside the Red Keep, a girl who couldn't have been more than three and ten stood in front of a mirror. She had once had long auburn hair, but at that moment it was gone. She also used to smile, but even that had been taken away from her – and the girl could not think of anything that could make the pain stop.

_It hurts so much_, she thought as the memories that never truly left her returned again. Being arrested and forced to stay in a small chamber for days, then stripped and beaten in front of the whole court. Then the corpse. _They made me kiss it_.

Everything hurt too much … tears were never absent from those Tully blue eyes. She cried when word came about her father's imprisonment, about Robb leading an army, and about Arya's death. She also cried when the queen told her about the next thing she had to do.

Her whole body had been shaved until there was no hair left on her. What would her mother think if she could see her now? And Robb, Bran, Rickon … even Jon. Then they had thrown her away like a used rag into a chamber that was little more than a cell and had left the poor naked girl to starve for what seemed like forever.

Then, just as the sun began to be visible, a guard came and told her what she was supposed to do. If she had had any energy, she would have tried to cover herself, but every move required too much effort. Even breathing was hard. Her whole body was covered with bruises, some of them from the beatings the knights had given her. In the room was nothing but a mirror, and Sansa presumed it was there only because they didn't want her to forget how ugly she had become. The only light was from an extremely small window, so high that she could not reach to see outside.

"Come on, little bird."

It was only when the man spoke that Sansa recognized him. She felt her cheeks getting red as she realized that her bare body was exposed in front of The Hound. Not for the first time, the girl realized. She had been naked as well when she kissed the corpse. Anyway, everyone would see her now.

Then Sandor Clegane did something surprising. He took down his cloak – and for a brief second Sansa thought that he was going to rape her – and put it around her bare shoulders. Such a small gesture, but it meant so much to her!

"Why?" She should have thanked him for it, but she did not remember her courtesies.

"You are cold, little bird. I don't want you to freeze."

"Thank you."

They walked together for what was going to be the final humiliation Joffrey would ever give to Sansa. Or, at least, that is what she hoped. All the eyes were on her as she walked bare ( because the cloak could not hide very much, no matter how hard she tried ), and, when they stopped, Sansa felt sick. So sick, she actually thought she would throw up. But, fortunately, it passed quickly. Another guard ripped the cloak from her once the Hound had left and pushed her down on the stairs. As tired and hungry as she was, she fell and rolled down till her body was on a solid surface. Some laughs were heard before the girl set her eyes on the crowd that had come to see the entertainment. She had not even known that so many people could be fit such a small place.

"I, prince Joffrey Baratheon, condemn you, Sansa Stark, to a penitence walk. You will go from the Red Keep to the docks and back."

No one asked for the reason, no one cared about what she could have done to deserve such a punishment. Ten guards stood around her, perhaps to keep the smallfolks away, and so she started to walk, determined to not break down.

_I am a Stark of Winterfell, and now winter has come for me._

"How much do we have to wait?"

"A girl lacks patience. A man already told his lovely girl that he will do this at the right time, and that time is when a girl's sister reaches the docks."

The Lorathi and Arya stood behind a wall, hidden in the shadows. Even with all his patience, Jaqen was starting to get annoyed with the girl's constant talking. In truth, he had not thought he would find her where they were supposed to meet after he killed Lord Tywin. The mission had not been as hard as he had thought it would be – some poison in his wine had done the trick.

Jaqen looked around him – everything was set for a show King's Landing would not forget very soon. The substance that looked much like smoke was in its place, and all they had to do was to wait.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: ASOIAF belongs to GRRM.**

**Thanks a lot to everyone who reads and reviews this story. :)**

Jaqen sighed as he remembered their meeting with the Master of Whispers – it had been quite funny to watch the scheming eunuch trying to convince him that Tywin Lannister was the only name Lord Stark had spoken. Ever since he had laid eyes on the man, the assassin could see a greed for power matched only by the pleasure of a plan that had achieved its success. His practice as a Faceless Man in Braavos had made him an expert in the art of understanding someone's personality – and how could it be otherwise? Only the best of them achieved the rank of "masters", and Jaqen was better in some ways than many of his brothers. That was the reason behind his mission: the council knew that if any was likely to be successful, it was him.

And things had worked pretty well, until he had almost died in that cage … after that, he had made a promise that kept him in King's Landing for longer than it should have. But it would not be long before he could leave – Loras Tyrell had been caught (the fact that Lord Stark had untied his ropes and gotten himself arrested was not Jaqen's business), Tywin Lannister's body had already begun to cool when he had left the scene and … well, Jaqen was sure that the Warden of the North had said another name, but if it was for killing or keeping alive he could not tell. No matter how hard he tried to persuade the eunuch to tell the truth, he had not had any positive result. Anyway, he was going to find out one way or another.

Saving Sansa Stark had not been on his list until a certain girl with brown hair and grey eyes asked him for it. But his order's prices were not small, and he did not agree until Arya promised him that, once Lord Stark was safe, the Night Watch would be be reinforced. She didn't understand his request (_Why do you care about them? Aren't you from Lorath anyway?_) and he could not explain without giving away too much information.

And could he tell her, really? She already knew his true identity (the eunuch had made sure to call him a Faceless Man in front of her, perhaps hoping that it would scare the girl), the one that was hidden so well behind the tricks and farces of his order – the girl did not feel for the masquerade the Lorathi was playing. Jaqen H'ghar was no more real than any other face he had worn before. The years of practice had taken their toll on him, stealing everything he was once … everything he could have been. He was no one.

He saw promise in the girl that had followed him over the past few days. At first, when she had asked him to save her sister, the man had considered asking her to join the order. But what made him change his mind was the determination she had, visible with every move she made. It was something that both startled and fascinated him – perhaps it stirred a little envy in the Faceless Man as well. Arya Stark had a purpose on the world, even if it was different from the one that was typically envisioned for a highborn girl. Not even Jaqen could have imagined her sewing and practicing courtesies like a proper little lady, but the image of her on the battlefield easily came to him. Arya Stark with Needle in her hand and the wind in her hair.

He knew that, no matter what, the girl was a wolf and she would never give up on that. No matter what, Arya Stark was not going to disappear – the blood of the North, of the First Men and the kings of Winter ran in her veins, making her who she was. Jaqen saw that ambition and the love she held so tight for her family – how could he ask her to give up everything?

So he asked her instead to make sure that Lord Stark reinforced the Night's Watch. At least that would help Jaqen H'ghar on his mission.

The man was pulled away from his thoughts by the voice of the girl that fascinated him so much.

"They are coming!"

He turned around and saw a procession of more people that he would have thought possible heading towards the docks. In the middle, a pale figure who could be no one other than Sansa Stark walked straight and proud, even if the crowd called her countless names, each more offending than the one before, and started to throw different things at her – and Jaqen could not help but observe the bitter irony. The little warrior that Arya was told him how she and Sansa could not have been more different, but when Jaqen laid his eyes on her for the first time he saw instantly that they were more alike than either of them thought. The wolf blood was in both of them and even if she was bald and naked, Sansa Stark looked more a queen than the woman who sat on the Iron Throne. No trace of the frightened child she was when she had kissed the fake corpse was visible in her features. In fact, she looked like she was made from steel, a steel as powerful and unbroken as the winds that howled in the North.

Jaqen turned to Arya. "A girl should go to her place now. When a man signals, the substance will fall. Remember, stay still at your post until every bit of fake smoke is gone. Then go at once to the inn."

_The docks are so close, so close,_ Sansa Stark thought as her punishment continued. It should not take her more than half an hour to reach them.

Even if she had managed to maintain her posture – as much as it was possible in her situation – for almost half a day, the girl did not think she could last mcuh longer. Even her sight had started to play with her (Sansa was sure that King's Landing did not have any dots painted on buildings, and that the blonde woman whom she saw earlier couldn't have been the queen), and she had not been able to understand half of the things that were shouted at her for quite a long time. She was so hungry and tired …

At some point, the girl forgot where she was, and tears threatened to stream from her eyes when she realized that it was not a nightmare. She could not wake up and make it disappear. So the girl forced herself to walk, thinking that it would not last forever. And that was the only thing that kept her going.

But then, when they reached the docks, a smoke so heavy and black filled the air around them that Sansa thought she was going to die. _Perhaps I'm already dead_.

The mind of the tortured, starved and tired girl began to lose its last grip on reality, and she found herself falling and falling …

She did not even feel it when two strong arms encircled her, or when she was lifted and carried far away from the scene, or when she was placed on a bed and someone started to examine her wounds. She slept on, unknowing, finally free from her nightmare.

The small council decided to take advantage of the day, so they held a meeting while Joffrey played with the poor Stark girl. But, even though half an hour had passed since the start, the Hand of the King, Tywin Lannister, was not present. Varys had no doubts about where that one was, but decided not to say anything, as it would only attract suspicion to him.

"Something happened, it is not like him to be late," said Littlefinger as it became evident that the Hand would not come.

"We should start."

This time, Cersei Lannister was the one who spoke, and Varys found himself rather amused by the woman's words. Even if the Queen believed that she was a female version of her father, the truth was that her mind was even easier to control than King Robert's.

The eunuch sighed as he remembered the woman that used to share the Iron Throne with her husband so many years ago, before Aerys earned the name of "The Mad King". Yes, before that, Queen Rhaella had been his advisor, one of the few people that the king trusted with his secrets, so loved by the smallfolk and noblemen … That one had been a true queen, a smart woman who did everything she could to make sure that the Targaryen rule was built upon a foundation of love and respect, not fear. And Prince Rhaegar had been the very image of her. But that was so long before! At that point, every atrocity Aerys did later had seemed impossible!

Rhaella Targaryen had been a queen … the woman who wore a crown in front of them was nothing more than a pretender parading at a show.

"What news do we have?" Cersei Lannister did not even wait for a sign of agreement from the other people, and Varys answered her question.

"Our dear King Robert was hurt in battle, but my little birds tell me that he will survive. It was an ambush, led by no one other than Robb Stark. The Lannister forces still haven't reached Casterly Rock or Lannisport yet, and the Greyjoys have allied with the northerners. And that's not all! It seems that Stannis is increasing his army's strength every day. Renly decided to switch sides and the Tyrells followed him. He and Stannis decided to set their differences aside and make common cause against the crown."

"Traitors! All of them!"

"They might be," Petyr Baelish said, starting to voice his thoughts, "but their strength is not a joke. It seems to me that the whole realm is against the crown. The North, the Stormlands, the Reach, the Riverlands, the Ironborn – and, as I was informed earlier, the Vale – have all joined their strength to the Stark army. I have my own sources that confirm my fears – Dorne also raised its banners and, from what I heard, they are going to fight along with Robb Stark. Those areas are not allied, at least not officially, but how long will it be till they decide to destroy the royal line? It would be fitting for all of them. Place a new king on the throne and gave independence to the realms who ask for it. Now we have three – North, Dorne and the Iron Islands. How long will it be till Westeros will be divided again in seven separate kingdoms?"

"My lord," said Varys, "you make the situation seem worse than it is. Plenty of houses are still loyal to the crown. In fact, small rebellions against their liege lords started at the beginning of this war. Almost two months have passed since it all started, and now the realm is consuming itself. Power resides where men believe it resides. We must do something in order to gain the people's support."

But Varys knew that nothing could be done in order to stop what already started. The rebellion was a castle built over countless broken men who had suffered while King Robert drank every coin the realm had, its foundation set by tears spilled by every person who had suffered during the reign of the Baratheon king. _Is this man a king_? But it was a worthless question – a king was good and just, every action of his done only in order to make those who depended on him happy. Just like Rhaegar would have been. The eunuch could not remember one time in which Robert Baratheon had done something for the good of the realm.

"I know what we have to do!"

_Of course you do, my dear Cersei._

"We will promise every man who helps us put this down a thousand golden dragons!"

"From what money? The Iron Bank will not lend us anything, as we are in debt to them. Casterly Rock is taken by the Ironborn." Even from across the table, Varys could see the way Petyr Baelish tasted his words one by one. It gave him such great pleasure to torment the woman who called herself a queen – _what are you searching for, friend? What is it that you truly want?_

But no one answered. The next person to speak was prince Tommen, who announced his presence with a loud entrance. His face was pale and terrified, and it didn't take Varys more than a few seconds to realize why. Someone had finally found Tywin. It pained Varys that it was none other than Tommen, for the boy was much too young and innocent, but it was always the innocents who suffered when the high lords played their game of thrones.

In another part of the city, a girl woke up. To her surprise, she realized that she was wearing strange clothes, a kind she had never seen before. Her outfit was made of a thin cloth, green with some blue tears embroidered on it, and she knew that she would have blushed if someone had offered her this while she was still in Winterfell. The room didn't look familiar either – it was a poor room, with cracked walls and only two pieces of furniture: a bed, which she was sitting in, and a wardrobe.

She closed her eyes, trying to remember what had happened and where she was. Then she heard voices coming from a room next to her.

"Did a man ever tell a girl that she lacks patience?"

Sansa tensed. She did not know that voice.

"Jaqen! How long do you think it will be until someone kills him? Whom do you think they will blame when they find out about Lord Tywin? The eunuch knows!"

"Silence. Do you want someone to hear you?"

No matter how scared Sansa had been when she heard the unknown voice, which she could now identify as belonging to a man called Jaqen, it was nothing compared to relief she felt when she recognized the second one. _Arya! But how? Is this a trick pulled by Joffrey?_

"No. I want them to pay – all of them. For what they did to my father and my sister. But I know you don't actually care. After all, Jaqen H'ghar is only one of your many faces. Do you think we don't know about your guild here in the West? How many people have you been?"

There was a long silence, and Sansa wondered if Jaqen would speak again. She did not understand what Arya had just said – what guild? What did "how many people have you been" meant?

"Maester Luwin told me once, when I asked him."

That was still Arya speaking. Sansa felt afraid for her, wondering if her sister was as safe as it had seemed at first. Her heart ached at the thought that something might happen to her younger sister, and Sansa hated how she didn't seem able to move at this point. The starvation and the nights when she wasn't able to fall asleep for more than an hour at a time had taken their toll on her.

When Jaqen finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, but still extremely dangerous.

"More than a girl can count. But that's none of a girl's concerns now, is it? A man saved a girl's sister, and he shall expect that a little northern lady will not forget about the promise. A man will also save a girl's father to pay the debt he owes him."

"And you still refuse to tell me about the debt."

"A girl is smart."

There was another pause.

"What's your name? Your real name?"

Sansa felt her heart speed up, though it was for two entirely different reasons. First was the fear that gripped her heart at the very thought that her sister might be hurt and she would not be able to do anything to stop it, since she was so weak that she couldn't even move. Then she remembered – she had asked The Hound almost the same question what seemed a lifetime ago.

But he did not give in and answer. What he did say was something that made Sansa feel happier than she felt since … well, she did not even know when the last time she had been so happy was.

"A girl's sister woke up."

Before any of them knew what was happening, the two sisters rushed to each other's sides and hugged fiercely, as though afraid that if one of them let go, the other would disappear.

But they weren't allowed to be happy for a long time, because the next moment some goldcloaks appeared at the house entrance. Without any need for confirmation, Arya knew exactly how they had found them. _The eunuch. We did not tell him where we are, but he knew. He always knows._

Knowing that they had no way out, only one alternative remained to them. And when the door opened, Arya could see that the man who called himself Jaqen H'ghar agreed with her. In the two eyes that Arya wasn't even sure were his – _are they capable of changing their faces entirely?_ – was a look the girl knew well, as it was the same stare that she often saw in the eyes of her brothers back in Winterfell – the determination one showed when the outcome of an event decided everything.

Maybe she did not trust him, and maybe sometimes Arya felt a strong urge to punch him, but the girl knew that, despite the fact that he was constantly masquerading as a different person, the Lorathi was a fighter. And, when the goldcloaks found them, she felt no fear.

They decided to face the goldcloaks outside of the room they had given Sansa, deciding to spare her the sight. In fact, there weren't as many as Arya had first thought. There were ten of them, and even though she and Jaqen were only two, the girl felt confident. She knew they were able to win this fight.


End file.
